Chapter 82
Chapter 82
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 82
Chapter Title: 27. The Sage Who Chose Eternity Over Eternal Rest (2)
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Marquis Montpellier asked in a deeply grave tone.
"Was there such a distinguished figure in the kingdom?"
He expressed concern that if someone capable of designing and maintaining a magic tower suddenly stepped forward, it could serve as evidence that the kingdom had violated the treaty by secretly training mages.
His words were flowery, but in the end, they amounted to worry that since he had been the one monitoring the kingdom all this time, he might face the empire's reprimand for overlooking something.
"An elf."
I gave the marquis a suitable excuse.
"My fiancée is one of the top mages even in her tribe."
I never imagined I'd refer to that mad elf this way myself. It made my stomach churn.
But this time, I decided to grit my teeth and leverage my public relationship with Sigrun.
In truth, Sigrun was more of a magic swordsman than a mage, and elves who had independently mastered ways to access the world's mysteries had nothing to do with magic towers. But none of that mattered in the slightest.
What was important now wasn't the truth, but how it appeared to others.
And sure enough, the marquis didn't object to the excuse I'd provided.
He merely brought up another pressing issue.
Far more practical and immediate problems.
The kingdom's finances were a problem, and the stubborn king was a problem.
Regardless of whether the kingdom's coffers were flush enough to build a magic tower, the king would never want one in the distant north, beyond his influence.
Nine times out of ten, he'd insist on building it near the capital.
And I could guarantee that if a magic tower went up near the capital, not a single mage would be dispatched north.
That was absolutely not what I wanted.
Just as the king didn't want a magic tower outside his influence, I had no intention of sharing one with the kingdom.
What I wanted was a pure magic tower of my own in the north, free from any outside interference.
"Even if it's only three stories, a magic tower is still a magic tower. Even if the northern lords pool their resources, I doubt it would help much."
"Where would the northern lords get that kind of money? They're barely scraping by to repair the war damage from the central levies."
"Just so we're clear, I can't cover the construction costs myself."
The marquis stated firmly.
He looked preemptively terrified at the thought of me squeezing a fortune out of him.
"You think I'd make you foot the entire bill alone?"
What did he take me for?
"Collect it from the nobles."
There were plenty of them ripe for the picking.
"No way..."
"What good is holding their weaknesses if not for this?"
The voice from the crystal ball cut off abruptly.
I could clearly picture the marquis's dumbfounded face on the other end.
He clearly hadn't imagined I'd tell him to blackmail his own kingdom's nobles for funds.
But from the start, I didn't consider those whose weaknesses I'd grasped as the kingdom's nobles anyway.
They were snakes who would sell out their own country if it suited them, and their coffers existed solely for their selfish desires.
I had zero obligation to spare them.
"There will be massive backlash."
"Handle it."
"Your Highness?"
"You weren't planning to drop my name, were you?"
The marquis fell silent.
He might not use my name directly, but he was surely planning to invoke the north's at minimum.
It made sense from the imperial envoy's perspective—extort money and sow discord in the kingdom. Two birds with one stone.
"Let me give you some advice."
"I shall listen intently."
"If you're going to become a dog, do it thoroughly to the bone."
There was no response from the crystal ball.
"Half-hearted imitation will get you abandoned by both your new master and your old one."
"...I will keep that in mind."
"And just so you know, I won't stop you from skimming your own share."
Hearing the marquis's heavily suppressed voice, I added one more thing.
"But if you do, do it flawlessly. If you get caught sloppily in my sight..."
I didn't spell out the childish threat of what would happen if he slipped up.
I simply infused part of my aura into my voice.
Whether it transmitted through the crystal ball, I couldn't tell.
"I will keep that in mind."
Hearing the marquis's trembling voice, it seemed it had reached him properly.
"Good. Very good."
With the magic tower matter settled, I smiled in satisfaction.
**
The surging mana gradually subsided. I took a long, deep breath and opened my eyes.
"Not easy, huh."
My face involuntarily twisted into a frown.
Through the battle with the Warlord, I'd finally obtained the long-desired [Heroic Ode], and achieved soul growth to match.
It had been three months since I'd transcended the extraordinary to reach the realm of a hero.
Yet there was no explosive growth as I'd hoped.
The damn body was the problem.
The wastrel's lowly talents were holding me back.
Until now, I'd opened my soul and drawn on the Heroic Ode's power whenever needed to push through, but even that had limits.
My current talent for mana sensitivity was barely at the level of an average knight, if generously assessed. The fact that forcing growth through the Heroic Ode had gotten me this far only made me sigh anew at how utterly talentless the wastrel had been.
Because of this, I hadn't advanced a single step toward the Swordmaster wall.
It was only natural.
Becoming a Swordmaster wasn't just about accumulating vast mana or gaining enlightenment.
It was a realm you could only challenge once body, soul, and energy all reached perfection and harmonized.
And of what I possessed now, only my soul met Swordmaster standards.
The mana in my body and my innate flesh were both utterly mediocre.
In other words, my vessel was too small to properly contain what I held.
There was only one way to resolve this in short order.
Reconstituting the body. The problem was that even this required sufficient talent and realm.
To become a Swordmaster, reconstitute the body; to reconstitute the body, become a Swordmaster.
What an absurd catch-22.
If things continued like this, Adelia would reach Swordmaster first.
Unlike me, her soul lagged behind her body's talents. But she had monstrous ability to overcome disharmony and incompleteness.
If my guess was right, she'd soon reach a half-baked Swordmaster realm at least.
And she wasn't alone.
Arwen, tempered by real combat, had linked one more ring to become a Triple Chain knight. Even now, she was volunteering for mountain patrols to grow swiftly through battle.
It even crossed my mind that Arwen, not Adelia, might reach Swordmaster first.
Endless talk of rings, and now I truly felt why people obsessed over ring mana.
I'd boasted plenty, but if this kept up, I'd be left in the dust. It'd be weirder if I wasn't anxious.
Still, having achieved the hardest part—realm growth—I believed everything would naturally resolve with time.
I could only hope that time came soon.
Before the mad elf, incarnation of ruin, revealed her true colors.
Before the greedy empire noticed my preparations.
Before this rotten kingdom's trash nobles and incompetent king completely ruined the country.
I could only wait to reach the place I desired.
Of course, just waiting wouldn't accomplish anything. While striving endlessly to perfect this mediocre body with my soul, I also handled the tasks that fell to me one by one.
Having tracked down the royal secret knights' whereabouts recently, I had the Silver Foxes bring them to Winter Castle. Persuade them first, but if they refused, use forceful means to drag them here.
Through Antoine, I learned most of the confirmed knights were en route to Winter Castle.
Of course, I had no idea what thoughts brought them here.
Whether they came harboring daggers in their hearts or dragged empty-handed by the Silver Foxes, I had no way to know.
Beyond them, there were too many things to handle.
To bolster Winter Castle's forces, I scoured the barracks selecting the talented, formed separate units for special training, and even had the Silver Fox mercenaries' elites restart from scratch alongside them.
As training instructor, I appointed Bernard Ilai.
Bernard was a strict instructor and a thoughtful commander, proving my personnel choice with his own skill.
He had the innate gift of knowing exactly when to squeeze the soldiers and when to give them slack.
I watched him with quiet satisfaction.
From the moment I saw him at that degenerate social club, I'd known Bernard Ilai was no true wastrel like the others.
His status window alone was too impressive for a wastrel who'd fallen to despair over his fallen house.
Some time after the war ended, I'd spoken with Bernard.
"What did you want from me before I was hauled to trial?"
"I wanted to hear why you clung to your family's secret art even after your house fell."
"Men of the Ilai family are famously stubborn. Grandfather, father, and I—we all just wanted to prove the Ilai way wasn't wrong."
Through that conversation, I learned the Ilai family still upheld Mana Heart and Heroic Ode, and had attempted countless ways to overcome ring mana.
Though all failed, those efforts had nourished Bernard into the man he was, now fertile soil for Winter Castle's novice knight candidates.
"Why bother pretending to be a wastrel?"
"To rebuild a completely ruined house, I needed money."
"So you fleeced suckers."
"There's a refined term: patrons."
"Was I one?"
"An excellent patron, Your Highness."
I could only laugh at Bernard's unusually cheeky tone toward me.
"But I don't get why you pretended to be a wastrel, Your Highness."
As I just kept laughing instead of answering, he grumbled.
"Anyway, because of the mess you caused, innocent me got struck by lightning. They confiscated all my hard-earned 'ill-gotten gains.' The losses aren't trivial."
So take responsibility. Bernard spoke with brazen impertinence.
"The Ilai family's years of hardship will all be compensated."
I gladly accepted responsibility for his insolence.
It was my own tribute to a knightly house that steadfastly held their post when all others abandoned the path to transcendence.
The Bernard I saw was as fine a man as any in Winter Castle.
Though his habit of trailing after Arwen, who ignored him, was a bit pathetic.
In any case, while fortifying the interior, I had northern families' members serve as officers in Winter Castle for limited terms.
To ensure they never forgot winter again, placing them before the brutal cold.
The Bloodspear descendants were growing vigorously too, and everything proceeded smoothly.
I prepared to leave Winter Castle without regret.
Taking three rangers as guides, along with Arwen, Adelia, and only Boris.
And delved deep into the mountains.
Crossing the range Winter Castle folk called Blade Mountains, we finally arrived.
At the land where primordial winter lingered: the Frost Mountains.
"From here on, it's unknown territory even to us."
The rangers bowed, saying they could guide no further.
I praised their steadfast guidance through mana-less, brutal cold and ordered them back.
For the return, I'd entrust Boris.
That was why I'd brought him, after all.
"Hm."
Boris glanced at me.
He seemed bothered that only women remained here now.
Perhaps my lecherous reputation was getting to him.
Arwen and Adelia also eyed me curiously for bringing only women this time, unlike usual. They didn't ask, but their gazes demanded explanation.
To them, I explained why I'd come all the way beyond Blade Mountains into these deep wilds.
Their faces hardened instantly upon hearing it.
No surprise. Timid Adelia aside, even Arwen and Boris paled.
It was natural.
The being I sought would elicit such expressions from anyone but me.
"Remember what I said, and even if things go wrong, follow my plan as much as possible."
With their attention refocused, I headed deeper into the Frost Mountains.
"Your Highness, how can you walk so fearlessly?"
Boris asked.
As if wondering what I'd do if we got lost, striding so recklessly.
"Don't worry."
I looked ahead.
"I know this place."
Know it? Far more than that.
Hundreds of years had passed, and as many had piled upon the land.
Yet the rugged snowscape before me felt utterly familiar.
This was the pass where Leonberger's army advanced for the final battle with the Light Dragon.
I'd fought the Light Dragon's forces here for months straight.
And what I sought now was treasure from the being that had blocked my path back then.
"Hold up."
Reaching a massive cave, I scanned the surroundings and couldn't help but smile.
"Found the right spot."
Familiar terrain, familiar dissonance. I shattered the dissonance and entered.
"I'll go alone. Wait here."
Leaving the women behind, I ventured into the cave.
Relying on memory, piercing the darkness, after a long trek, I found what I sought.
"Ugh!"
The women grimaced upon seeing me emerge.
More precisely, at the object in my hand—they looked ready to vomit.
Pulsating softly.
The squishy thing in my grasp throbbed.
That grotesque organ, endlessly leaking black energy, was a heart stained black.
"Indeed, as Your Highness said, it radiates ominous energy."
Arwen said, her face drained of color.
Her eyes brimmed with wariness at the heart spewing black energy.
It was unavoidable.
This heart wasn't merely bizarre.
The last remnant of flesh left by a mage who chose eternal pursuit over rest—a pledge guaranteeing imperfect eternity, a nexus of curses that would doom any mortal to death upon touch.
This was the Life Vessel of a millennium-old High Lich.
I gripped the heart tightly.
Squeezing hard, as if to crush it any moment.
[Grraaaaaaaaah!]
Soon, an ear-piercing wail like wailing ghosts echoed across the entire range.
[Who daaaares!]
[How daaaare youuuu!]
Black energy gathered overhead.
As if broad daylight suddenly turned to night.
[Is it yoooouuuu!]
The "night" coalesced in the blue sky charged straight at me.
"Long time no see."
The onrushing night froze upon seeing me, then hesitated as if gauging the situation.
"Our appearances have changed, yet we still recognize each other. How fortunate."
At my words, the night began slinking backward.
"Good to see you again."
Looking at it, I squeezed the heart as if to burst it.
"O Sorcerer of the White Night (S夜)."